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Two months ago, noise faded away.

The doctors paused while a nurse made a frantic phone call. The blue line on the monitor went flat.

Though an intensely private person (a quality that will be respected in this post), her caring touched hearts and changed lives.

A life well-lived.

Loss and pain call us to attention. We can remember, in sharp focus, the shape of a shadow. We recall the tone of a soft mew from a beloved cat perched on a windowsill, the quality of the sunlight on a particular afternoon in October 2003.

And we can be glad—glad because these will be part of us for always.

So the loss, though deep, is not ultimate. The pain, though it takes away our breath for one second, fades in the next to a quiet, sad acceptance that makes room for a smile.

And we can feel surrounded, enfolded, protected by a goodness we do not understand.

Few things are easy, but some can be simple, if we stop fighting and allow.

This blog …

Many excellent words have resounded on the worthy depths of silence, which in itself is a powerful form of communication.

Ultimately, at this difficult time, I choose those of Khalil Gibran:

“Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.”

Like this:

Recipes. Thoughts on simple living. Cat hair.

Well, OK, no discussion or further comments on cat hair. But about the other elements, yes.

I spent last week isolating, at home alone. I watched a lot of films. I did some work. I was not feeling well. I even had a fever. But I’m still not sure whether or not I actually had a contagious virus or was just run-down. Much of the problem, too, stemmed from my negative thoughts, which focused on uselessness, purposelessness, pointlessness. Nihilism.

As a result, I was useless, without purpose, and life seemed pointless. So I let myself be sick.

Maybe I needed that time, because today, right now, life is rich, rewarding, meaningful. I am thankful, and I am paying attention.

Nothing really has changed, except for my perspective.

My perspective is broadening, lengthening, growing. Emotions and rogue thoughts no longer automatically wind me up tight, like so many straitjackets.

When I stopped drinking, I not only gained sobriety, but I was finally given a method and specific things to do that would help me grow toward maturity, help me create a meaningful life. What a gift.

Over the years, I’ve spent thousands of dollars on shampoo, skincare products, and cosmetics, expecting them to “fix” me, to make me “right.” This is, of course, assuming there was something inherently wrong with me in the first place, which there is not. Finally — FINALLY — it has sunk into my brain somewhere that nothing external will or can change anything about me. Improvements such as I was seeking start on the inside.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I still believe in good, regular skincare and overall hygiene (please consider using only non-animal-tested products with short lists of mostly organic, safe, natural ingredients). But, as I mixed up a fresh batch of face and body scrub yesterday, looking forward to using it later, rather than slathering up my skin with suds in a hot shower because that is what “everyone else” does, for the first time in my life, I found myself relishing and feeling satisfied with simpler living. No expensive products needed. I can make most of what I need for my daily toilette, and for the rest I can seek out merchants with values that match mine: No animal testing; pure, safe ingredients that are fair-traded; empowerment for artisans and workers in struggling economies.

Feeling satisfied with it is the key here. I can tell I am growing, because finally I was not seeking redemption from skincare products. As I prepared the body scrub, a kernel of some positive energy deep inside me, released when I got sober, began to sprout. I returned expensive products that are nice but that I do not need and cancelled orders of yet more products that also are nice but that I do not have to buy. Not anymore. I will be OK without them.

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BODY SCRUB

This recipe is both moisturizing and cleansing, and it also is suitable for the face (just do not rub too hard to avoid tearing skin).

Coconut oil (organic, extra virgin)

Sugar (refined white or brown)

Honey (optional but adds extra healing and moisturizing benefits)

A few drops of essential oil of your choice (optional, but adds cleansing benefits and serves as a natural preservative)

Mix up smaller batches at a time. Yesterday, I used roughly 6 to 7 teaspoons of coconut oil, and 6 to 7 teaspoons of white sugar.

Spoon out the coconut oil (it is solid at room temperature) into a bowl. Add sugar. If using honey, add 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon to other ingredients. Using a spoon, gently press and stir the ingredients together until they are well-mixed.

That’s it.

I added 8 drops of essential oil for a whiff of lovely fragrance, added botanical-based benefits, and mixture preservation. It is best to store this scrub in a glass container to avoid the chance of chemicals from plastic containers seeping into the mixture.

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I also plan to start making my own cleansing conditioner for my hair out of bentonite clay and coconut milk (thank you, Minimalist Beauty, for this great idea). I am currently using a mud-based hair cleanser that works great but is, well, costly. If I can buy ingredients that will make up multiple batches of an effective, safe hair cleanser, then why not make it myself?

It’s the idea that I am worthy to do this, that a product I mix up myself is as good or better than something I could pay $50 for in stores or online.

Yes.

Living in a simpler way, consuming less and creating more, strengthens life energy. It is giving rather than taking. It is appreciating and paying attention. It is being grateful and using what you already have to make an entirely new thing that you actually need. Less wanting. Less wanting. Less wanting…

Like this:

Many of us go through the same life experiences, but we proceed through this maze at different paces, in different ways.

Our responses and reactions—not our experiences—render us as individual.

Caring for an aging parent not only requires physical action but also emotional strength. The children, now turned caretaker, must do those personal things for their parent that were once done for them.

This change can be hard to swallow. And if that is managed, then it certainly is hard to digest.

Life happens.

Life is about change, growth, instability. Life also is about handling this mercurial nature of existence with grace, thankfulness, and love.

Being scared is OK. Being unwilling is not.

The best part? I can stay sober, no matter what, and I actually can be helpful. I can be present, completely in the now, where I am needed.

Like this:

What is the “truth,” really?

There are as many “truths” as there are perspectives, and each person has her or his own perspective, so there you go.

No one, single, universal reality exists. Your reality is ultimately different from mine, though there may be many similarities. This “radical” idea, presented to me by a brilliant man teaching an Honors Rhetoric class, blew my little mind in undergraduate studies in the late 1980s. I have spent the years since trying to pull the pieces of my mind back together.

This blog, much like me in the last few years, has been all over the place.

From the earliest posts, which are an ode to the Regency Era and Jane Austen to later posts more serious and socially minded to a confessional, this platform has chronicled my progress of growing up in public.

It is OK to change.

Change is a constant. The next moment will be different from the present. That is a given. But growth—ay, there’s the rub. Growth results when I respond to the present moment with enthusiasm, excitement, energy. Hope. When I respond to circumstances with a sense of possibility, rather than a feeling of dread, I allow the “present” to travel smoothly into the “future” with very few bumps during the journey.

However, my often racing thoughts and volatile emotions can easily interfere with my forward movement, forcing me to a standstill or, even worse, to roll backward down the hill.

Two cats snuggle against me as I write this. My three cat friends are not so much bothered by wandering (and wondering) thoughts as I am. Instead, they breathe their presence completely into what they are doing or experiencing at each point in time, staying focused on “right now.” Soft and warm, content and satisfied, they are good teachers.

Just like the radical idea once presented to me that truth is fractured into as many facets as there are human minds, the cats show me that it is not only OK but indeed desirable to be fully present with all I am doing, in every moment.

This is to be alive.

Anything less is a sort of half life, lived on the fringes and prone to fear, doubt, and other such predators.

So how will I stay present today—present right now?

Focus intently on my five senses. What do I see? What pleasant scents tickle me? What do I taste? Which instrument is taking the solo in my beloved jazz or classical music? Am I really noticing the sumptuousness of a faux fur blanket?

Remove the word “should” from my vocabulary. “Should” conjures up impressions of fear, of serious duty void of joy, and, depending upon my mind set, even a sense of fate settling firmly upon my shoulders and pressing down with insistent cries and whines, removing from me my right—my very ability—to choose. Instead, I will ask for guidance and listen intently to what my inner compass tells me to do next, then do that next right thing.

I will not judge—merely observe and experience. As Shakespeare said: “Nothing is either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” Why the need to lay my opinion on everything? No—depression or joy, activity or stillness, company or solitude—I will be a student of this life, of this moment, rather than struggling to direct everything. When I surrender to what actually is, then I get out of the way of my own awareness.

And that is good. Helpful. Getting out of the way of my own awareness is growth. Removing limited and limiting parameters on the universe, of which I am familiar with only a tiny fragment, opens me up to what actually is. No fantasies. No fairy tales. Instead, only the present as it unfolds.